


before the world was big

by starworm



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Bisexual Peter Parker, Gen, Genius Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, everyone thinks peter is tonys actual child, friday and karen are the GOATs, tony stark is protective but it's seen as overbearing sometimes Because That's Just How He Is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starworm/pseuds/starworm
Summary: REUPLOAD//sometimes a family is an enhanced spider-child with no self preservation instincts, a genius billionaire also lacking those instincts, a badass italian aunt, an equally badass female ceo, the forehead of security, a sentient ai, and a rhodey.a glimpse into the in-between moments before the universe decides to take a swan dive into pure chaos.[or: after the homecoming incident, peter gains a not-dad.]
Relationships: Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Everyone, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 106





	before the world was big

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I was like Going Through It and deleted this fic and then instantly regretted it. BUT I did some editing. hope you all enjoy!

It had been a… wild few months. With the Homecoming Incident, being offered a spot on the Avengers—the _Avengers—_ and May finding him in the suit, Peter Parker was overwhelmed to say the least. Despite turning down a position on the team to “stay close to the ground”, Peter knew he could never really go back to leading a “normal” life like a normal high schooler again. His standard for normal was like, way fucked up compared to pretty much _every other teenager’s._

Freshman year came and went, then the summer flew by. And so did his birthday.

It was a quiet but fun affair. May had planned a little surprise at the apartment filled with pizza, card games, and a _cake_ that she tried to bake from scratch. 

_(Keyword: tried. Peter loved May but her baking skills were, to put it nicely, not Gordon Ramsay approved. She may have forgotten the sugar but at least it was baked with love.)_

Ned and MJ had choked it down as best as they could, and even Mr. Stark and Happy—who made a surprise appearance, much to Ned’s delight—ate as much of May’s disaster cake as they could stomach. 

May had given him his gifts that morning during breakfast, but she gave him one more: an oversized red and blue tie dye t-shirt with a _very_ loud printed Spider-Man graphic, obviously from one of those street vendors. It was hilarious, he loved it. 

_(Who cares if it’s tacky to wear your own merch?)_

Mr. Stark had given him a smartwatch, high tech but not overly flashy. Peter had _absolutely_ no doubt in his mind that there was a super sophisticated tracker implanted in the thing, but he didn’t really mind. 

Overall it was a great birthday, Ned only cried once over the fact that _ohmygodTonyStarkisatyourhouse._ So Peter counted it as a win. 

And then there was _the car._ The rusted to hell ‘69 Chevy Camaro that had originally rendered Peter speechless. Because, like, holy shit.

_“I know you’re a genius kid, but you don’t know shit about cars. I thought we could fix this one up together. Before you get your license. Uh,” he sniffed, scrunching up his face. “Happy birthday.”_

_Peter stared dumbly, “I-I… what?”_

_“This is yours. Or it will be. When we fix her up.”_

_“This is mine?”_

_“I just said that. Keep up. Happy birthday.”_

_“Mr. Stark. Cars are expensive.”_

_“Your suit is more so, what’s your point.”_

_“Oh my god.”_

  
  


* * *

Throughout the summer, Peter had been tracking some guys who were a little more exciting than your run-of-the-mill New York baddies. Weird tech, possible enhancements, ethically ambiguous genetic experimentation and a secret lair—big leagues kinda stuff. 

Peter wasn’t _stupid_ though. He wasn’t gonna go after the guys—not yet. He didn’t wanna take on more than he could handle because the Great Homecoming Incident did not need a sequel. But…. gathering intel on the guys and figuring out their MO wasn’t dangerous. 

At least that’s how he rationalized not telling Mr. Stark _all_ the details. 

* * *

Summer had ended and his weekly stakeouts had become severely limited. It was the beginning of September of his sophomore year and Peter was already ready to be done with school. 

Not _learning,_ he did that in the labs at the tower. He just hated all the redundant busywork that was high school. It plagued him. 

It was a STEM school, so most of his electives were science related. But it wasn’t _challenging._ It was the kind of stuff he did for fun when he was twelve. 

He didn’t really hate it _all._ He loved decathlon (MJ would kill him if he said otherwise), loved seeing his friends (okay, mostly just Ned and MJ and occasionally the AcaDec team), and… that was pretty much it. 

AcaDec was in full swing. The team was set to head to nationals for the second year in a row, and Peter was stoked. 

MJ was a great captain, and he’d grown closer with the rest of the team over the course of the last school year, so he really _really_ enjoyed it. The team was pretty cool, and aside from Flash—who was really just mildly annoying—they all genuinely seemed to like Peter. 

He was in his last class of the day and kind of felt braindead. It had been a long day. Like, a _really_ long day. 

When the bell _finally_ rang, Peter bolted out of his seat. He booked it to his locker at record speed, nearly tripping as he barreled through a group of girls who had gathered in the hallway. After shouting out a rushed apology and stashing his calc book, he hauled ass to AcaDec practice. 

MJ did _not_ fuck with lateness. 

He flew into the practice room, nearly denting the handle on the push door on his way in.

_(Super strength can be a bitch when unchecked.)_

“You’re five minutes late, Loser.” MJ didn’t even look up from her book— _Wuthering Heights._

He turned to scan the room. The entire team was seated and ready to roll. All eyes were on him, and he began to stammer out a response when MJ cut him off. 

“Whatever, Parker, you’re up.” She pelted the bell at the back of his head, but he turned and snatched it out of the air at the last second. 

_(And maybe his time management skills were subpar, but his reflexes were elite. He just had to flex a little, however subtle it was.)_

Flash made a disgruntled noise and slammed his hand down on his bell. “Why does _he_ get to go? He was late.”

“You got here like, thirty seconds before he did, man.” Charles shot back, which earned a handful of laughs from the group. 

Peter just grinned as he tossed his backpack into the corner, almost with a little too much force. It clattered to the ground as he hopped up on the stage, nudging Ned on the shoulder as he took his seat. He _loved_ AcaDec.

* * *

Exactly seven minutes into the event, Peter Parker made the executive decision that he _hates_ galas.

Or really, any stuffy rich person event that requires him to wear a suit and shake a million hands. 

The only consolation is the fact that Mr. Stark also hates these events, so he decided to teach Peter how to get through them without going absolutely crazy. It had been a crash course taught in the living room of the penthouse after Ms. Potts had announced the event and left no room for argument.

“ _Don’t even_ try _to get out of it Tony. Be a good influence.”_

So, naturally Mr. Stark had opted to be a _bad_ influence. But, depending on who you ask (not Ms. Potts), it was actually Very Good Advice.

Peter liked to think of it as _How To Finesse Your Way Out of Pretentious and Annoying Conversations and Not Be Bothered 101._

Peter didn’t even know _what_ the event was. He just knew he was being introduced as the “genius intern” and people _really_ wanted to meet him.

Or something.

He’d overheard himself be dubbed the “Mini Stark” which was equal parts endearing and embarrassing. Enhanced hearing was a blessing and a curse. 

To put it simply, there were a lot of _flat out weird_ things about the night.

One: a lot of people knew of his existence and were _actively seeking him out._ Which was, like, super unexpected. And kind of uncomfortable at first. His spidey-sense would act up every time someone approached, not in the _DANGER_ way but more of an _AWKWARD, SOS_ kind of way. 

Two: Mr. Stark was proudly introducing him to people, almost in a downright _fatherly_ way (which did nothing to stop the belief that he was Mr. Stark’s long lost son, or whatever). He made a mental note to check Twitter later _just to see._

Three: perhaps the weirdest thing of all is that Happy took May as his plus one. Like a date. Happy Hogan, (fore)head of security, took _May_ as his date. Aunt May. _His_ Aunt May. On a _date._ With Happy. Like, a _date_ date. His brain was exploding in, like, slow motion. 

Peter had seriously considered the idea that he was in some sort of medically induced coma and was dreaming it all up. That would explain it. Logically, he knew that May had spent more time around Mr. Stark and Pepper and Happy in the past several months—weekly dinners, movie nights, bonding over Peter’s reckless vigilante antics—so it made sense. But it also made absolutely no fucking sense. And he kind of wanted to die. 

At least the food was good. 

He briefly considered sneaking a flute of champagne just to see if he could get away with it, but his body in all it’s enhanced glory would metabolize it way too fast…. so it wasn’t worth the trouble. 

  
  
  


He stuck close to Mr. Stark, not wanting to be around May and Happy because _ew_ , and he made nice with whoever the hell wanted to meet the _genius intern_ that was so popular.

_(And apparently funny. At least these old farts appreciated his sense of humor, which he figured they attributed to Mr. Stark)._

After shaking his seven-millionth hand and answering the same, boring questions making the same boring conversation, he decided to implement Mr. Stark’s patented _Gala Avoidance Techniques._ He found as good of a lull in conversation as he could, and excused himself to the bathroom. 

He checked his phone, opening his groupchat with Ned and MJ. 

**FOS (friends of spider-loser)**

_MmmJay: having fun w the capitalist assholes?_

_Peter-Man: if i have to shake one more hand i may actually break someones hand ngl_

_Peter-Man: super strength be like that_

_Guy In The Chair: dude thats so cool that you get to go to stuff like that tho literally what is your life_

_Peter-Man: shut up nedward_

_Peter-Man: mr stark told me how to like. avoid people at these things but i still stand by my idea of getting accidentally kidnapped or stabbed like an hour before_

_MmmJay: i wouldve stabbed you loser you shouldve asked_

_Guy In The Chair: peter what the fuck_

_Guy In The Chair: how do you say “get kidnapped or stabbed” so easily_

_MmmJay: because he sucks_

_Guy In The Chair: yeah makes sense_

  
  


Peter shoved his phone into his pocket and stared at himself in the mirror. Ms. Potts and May had fussed over his hair endlessly, but he probably ruined it with the amount of times he’s ran his hand through it so far.

Ms. Potts had been really apologetic, and gave him an out but he knew that he really needed to go to this thing. It wasn’t so bad, really.

_(He was just in a crabby mood and didn’t exactly love being in a suit.)_

_(If he could wear the Spider-Man suit it would be a totally different story. The Spidey suit gave him a lot of confidence, this one on the other hand? It was just scratchy.)_

  
  


He spent a good ten minutes in the bathroom, delaying his reappearance as much as possible.

Eventually, he made his way out towards the patio, keeping on the outskirts of the crowd and avoiding eye contact so as not to encourage anyone to strike up a conversation with him. He wasn’t quite ready to tackle that without Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts with him, this was way more in their comfort zone than his. 

Or if he could stomach seeing May and Happy as a _couple_ he’d hang with Happy. People tended to give the man his space. Because he was _scary._

Or whatever.

He shook off the thought. He’d rather shake four thousand more hands than see May on a date with _Happy._ It was too awkward. 

  
  


The patio was nice. The fresh air on his face and in his lungs was a welcome change, and the lights were low enough so that he wouldn’t attract attention unless someone was actively looking for him. Which he doubted. 

He zoned out, focusing on the view of the city below him. What he would give right now to shoot a web and swing into the night.

He imagined himself flying through the city, letting himself freefall until he couldn’t, then catching himself on a web and doing it all again. He imagined whooping and hollering at the top of his lungs as he moved through his city. 

The thoughts of escaping had him so zoned out, that he didn’t notice someone else on the patio until they were standing right next to him at the railing. 

“Needed a break, hm?”

Peter whirled around to face the source of the voice, fingers reaching for the thin metal bracelet that housed the nanotech webshooters out of instinct. 

His eyes met a pair of dark ones. The boy standing next to him had dark hair and was in a suit that probably cost more than Peter’s tuition at Midtown. He carried himself well, standing tall and proud but casual and relaxed at the same time. He looked put together, like he came to this sort of thing all the time. 

Peter subtly lowered his hand from the bracelet. This boy didn’t seem like a Spider-Man level threat.

He felt stupid for being sneaked up on (it’s an impressive feat to sneak up on Spider-Man) but he attributed his jumpiness to the stress of the night.

He nodded at the strange boy. “It got a little stuffy, not gonna lie.”

The boy chuckled. “Stuffy as in the people or the air?”

Peter considered that for a moment. “Yes.” 

The boy stared at him, almost like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re Stark’s kid, yeah?” 

_There it is._ Peter fidgeted with the end of his jacket. _Stark’s kid._

He huffed out a laugh, “He’s not- I’m not- Yeah, something like that.” 

“I’m Harry,” the boy held out his hand. Peter shook it. His grip was firm and Peter figured that if he didn’t literally have inhuman strength, it would be impressive. 

“Peter.” 

Harry turned to lean his elbows on the railing. “You know, it’s not often I see people my own age at these things. It’s kind of a nice change of pace.”

Peter grinned. “Shit, I feel that. I’m so tired of fake laughing at bad jokes.” 

“Oh my god,” Harry exclaimed. “Right? I should’ve won an Oscar by now. If one more person asks me how I plan to _live up to my father’s legacy_ I may actually snap. This is my villain origin story.” 

Peter choked out a laugh.

_(Look, Spider-Man was a good guy, through and through, but he Got It.)_

In the past two hours, Peter experienced first-hand why Mr. Stark avoided board meetings and really _any_ sort of networking event like the plague. Honestly, the man was on to something. 

Harry nudged him with his elbow. “So why’d your dad suddenly decide to drag you to one of these things?”

“He uh—” Peter’s eyes went wide, instantly backtracking. “Wait, what? He isn’t my dad.” 

“Are you kidding me? You look just like him.”

“I just have…. brown hair,” Peter said dumbly. 

“Aren’t you supposedly a genius, too?”

Peter shrugged. “I-uh, I guess.”

“Not your dad, my ass.” 

Peter rolled his eyes and fixed his gaze at the city skyline. He could see the Tower from here—his second home. He longed to be there right now. Holed up in the lab with Mr. Stark, working on the car, and intentionally guessing the band names wrong just to make Mr. Stark cringe. 

He checked his watch, suppressing a groan upon seeing that it was only ten-thirty. No better way to kill time than to make conversation. 

“Where do you go to school?” 

Harry pulled a face. “Horizon. You?”

“Midtown Tech.” 

“Ahh, so you _are_ a genius.” 

“I—” His first instinct was to be humble, to deflect the compliment. But…. he didn’t wanna, like, brag but he _kind of_ was a genius. 

“Midtown? Oh it’s easy. Mr. Stark wanted me to graduate early and go to MIT but my aunt was all like _‘Peter be a normal kid’,_ plus I do decathlon, right? And MJ would _totally_ kill me if I bailed and—”

“Wait wait wait. You call your _dad_ Mr. Sta—”

“—not my dad.” 

“ _And_ you do decathlon? _Dude_.” 

Peter scrunched his face up. “Hey, it’s fun.”

“No, no it’s awesome. You’re a nerd but like a _cool_ nerd. You know what _I_ do at school? I disappoint my father. For fun. It’s kind of like a game, you know?”

He knew Harry was joking, but he could see the glint of hurt in his eyes. Peter was well accustomed to masking emotions with humor, so he felt for the guy.

“Wait, who’s your father?” 

Harry grinned. “Damn, Mr. Genius. I’m surprised you didn’t guess.” He held out his hand to shake again, “Harry _Osborn.”_

Peter shook his hand, his body moving on autopilot because, _holy fuck, holy fuck. Osborn._

His new friend’s father’s company inadvertently gave him superpowers. Peter’s brain was short circuiting. He realized a second too late that his face was completely blank. Harry gave him a funny look. 

He choked out, “Oh, wow. I-I wouldn’t have guessed.” 

“You haven’t seen the tabloids dragging me? Is that still what they’re called or was that just in Hannah Montana? Anyways, that fucking garbage fire DailyMail Snapchat story is obsessed with me.” 

“Wait Snapchat still does those stories?”

“Damn I guess you’re too busy doing, like, _physics_ or some shit for fun.”

“Hey! It’s actually fun if you—”

“Okay I get it you inherited your dad’s—”

“He’s _not—”_

  
  


* * *

  
  


Peter ended up killing almost two hours out on the patio. Harry was cool, he figured if he were to keep running in these circles with Mr. Stark, it would make things more bearable to have a friend. 

They exchanged numbers before Harry had to hurry off to talk to some business partner of his father’s and promised to keep in touch. 

He pulled out his phone, checking the insane amount of unread messages from his friends. 

**FOS (friends of spider-loser)**

_GuyInTheChair: you alive peterrrrrrrrrrr_

_GuyInTheChair: hewwo_

_MmmJay: ned if you say that one more time i will block you_

_MmmJay: parker did you die yet_

Peter grinned, scrolling for what felt like ages, choosing to ignore a thread of Spider-Man memes (see: embarrassing low-quality photos of Peter shot from random bystanders as he swung through the city, there was a whole Twitter page dedicated to collecting them).

**FOS (friends of spider-loser)**

_Peter-Man: i made a friend :-)_

_MmmJay: was it a milf_

_GuyInTheChair: yeah peter was it a milf_

_Peter-Man: what the hell guys no_

_Peter-Man: why would i_

_Peter-Man: whatever no there was a kid my age here. his dads like a big shot business guy_

_MmmJay: aww a little baby bourgeoisie_

_GuyInTheChair: omg mj_

_Peter-Man: no no he was really cool_

_Peter-Man: like actually_

_Peter-Man: he thought mr stark was my dad. f_

_MmmJay: isnt he though?_

_Peter-Man: literally no_

_GuyInTheChair: literally yes_

_GuyInTheChair: if people thought tony stark was my father i simply wouldnt deny it_

_GuyInTheChair: rip to peter but im different_

Peter replied with a bad selfie, flipping off the camera. MJ sent one back. 

* * *

The rest of the night passed in a blur once he found Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, and Colonel Rhodes. The night was wrapping up _thank god._

May and Happy were MIA. Peter did _not_ want to think about that.

Happy dating his aunt was like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs. That analogy didn’t make sense, but the _vibes_ were the same. _Whatever._

  
  


* * *

Despite feeling drained from the night, he couldn’t seem to shut his brain off long enough to fall asleep, so he found himself tinkering in the lab to kill some time. He was fiddling with the wiring on his webshooters, always trying to improve them even though they worked perfectly. 

At this point he was just pacing, taking the tech apart and reassembling it just to keep his hands moving. 

He didn’t realize he was standing on the ceiling until the lights clicked on and he heard something clatter to the ground, accompanied by a yelp of surprise. He looked down only to be met with a very startled Tony Stark. 

“ _Holy_ shit Pete. Cool it with the whole ‘climbing the walls in the middle of the night with the _lights off_ ’ thing. We _just_ watched Hereditary and I still can’t get that shot of Toni Collette crawling on the ceiling out of my mind.” 

Peter grinned and flipped down from the tall ceiling. “Sorry Mr. Stark. Couldn’t sleep.” 

His mentor let out a long sigh. “You and me both kid.” He motioned to the half-assembled webshooters in Peter’s hand. “What’s the deal with those?” 

Peter tossed one to him. “Just—y’know.” 

“Ah. I see you. Fidget spinner but for baby-geniuses/spider-children. Actually—Pep got me one of those. It’s part of SI’s new marketing strategy to connect with the younger demographic. Honestly I thought it was absurd but the stupid thing is…. oddly captivating.” 

Peter nodded solemnly, “It be like that sometimes, Mr. Stark.” 

“Indeed.” 

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence as Mr. Stark pulled up holograms of some of his current projects. Tweaks to the nanotech suits, adjustments to Mr. Rhodey’s leg braces, plans for a FRIDAY-run security system for May’s and Peter’s apartment (one he promised would be subtle, but anyone who knows Tony Stark knows that he’s _anything_ but subtle). 

His mentor stared blankly at the light blue holograms for a moment while Peter finished reassembling his webshooters yet again. 

“What’s bugging you, kid?” 

“Heh, bugging.” _Even though spiders are arachnids._

“Pete, spiders are arachnids.” 

He narrowed his eyes. Mr. Stark mimicked his expression. 

“But really, I know I’m not the best role model when it comes to a healthy sleep schedule but you need your rest. You’re a growing spider-child.” 

Peter sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s just I feel so—uh I don’t know, _wired_ I guess from the day. And everything’s just like….” 

“At eleven?”

He nodded, “I tried to go to sleep but I can hear, like, _every_ heartbeat in the building. My brain wouldn’t shut off so.”

“You put it to work then, yeah I get that.” 

He had nights like this sometimes. If he was at the apartment, he would either sneak out to swing around or just get ahead on homework (at the rate he was going, he was months ahead on notes and had finished assignments from the syllabus that haven’t even been assigned yet). 

But he enjoyed staying at the tower because of nights like these.

The trek from his room to the labs wasn’t too far and there was nothing better than tuning out the noise—literally, noise. Or nightmares. Or whatever fresh hell his brain cooked up—with science. Putting his hands to work and going on autopilot was a release. Or switching from Person Mode to Machine Mode, as he dubbed it, and channeling all his brain power into solving complex equations and _creating_ rather than dwelling on whatever was eating him up inside. 

Some would call it deflecting, he just called it being efficient. Tomato, _tomato._

He shrugged, “Yeah, something like that.” 

Mr. Stark studied him, with a soft expression on his face. Moments like this struck Peter in a way that almost made him want to cry. Mr. Stark was called a lot of things by a lot of people. _Paternal_ was usually not one of those things. 

But times like this—times when he could see the mask of an unbreakable man come off, and see the vulnerability that the world doesn’t get to see. The man who’s seen terrible things and who cares deeply for his found family, despite his public persona of being above it all—always threw Peter for a loop. 

His mentor hummed in understanding. “I take it sleep isn’t in the agenda today, then?” 

“Yeah. It’s a no from me.” 

“Okay,” in a sweep of his arm, the holo-screens disappeared into thin air. “I don’t know about you, Mr. Super-Hearing, but I can hear the Camaro calling our names.” 

Peter grinned and set his webshooters at his workbench, “Hell yes. But I’m on aux.” 

“Actually, FRIDAY is on aux.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Mr. Stark sighed, pointing a stern finger in Peter’s direction. “I get veto power. I haven’t forgotten that one time.” 

“Mr. _Stark_ that was _Ned._ ” 

“Ned is an extension of _you_ and letting him play—what was it called?” 

“WAP,” Peter said solemnly. 

“ _That—_ ten times is grounds for losing all aux privileges for life.” 

“But Mr. Stark, you learned the _dance._ ”

He dramatically shuddered, trying and failing to hide his grin. “You know damn well I lost a bet to Rhodey and had to do it to appease the masses. My point stands. Veto power. Your aux privileges are on thin ice. Think of it as probation.” 

* * *

The car was…. therapeutic. It always was. Something about working on something purely for fun, and restoring something from broken down nothing into, well, something, made Peter feel at ease. 

It had been about an hour? Two? He really didn’t know. His senses had calmed down and the jumpiness that plagued him throughout the day had washed away. He felt content in his spot underneath the body of the vehicle, tinkering away at everything and nothing all at once. 

Mr. Stark nudged his foot, which was poking out from under the car. Taking the cue, Peter shot a web at the adjacent wall and pulled himself out from under the car on the creeper. 

“You know, you can just roll out like a normal person. No webs needed.” 

Peter shrugged, glancing up at Mr. Stark who was studying the engine—the engine that needed a ton of love and attention. 

“You know,” he started, mimicking his mentor’s tone, “all this time spent around you has kind of inadvertently given me a flair for the dramatic. What can I say?” 

Mr. Stark just grunted in response. He closed the hood and wiped his hands on a towel that had been resting on his shoulder. 

Peter tilted his head, “Wait are you wrapping up?” 

“Pete, it’s seven in the morning. And Rhodey promised breakfast.” 

“Ah. Mr. Rhodey makes the best pancakes.” Peter leapt up and snagged the towel from Mr. Stark in a fluid motion. 

His mentor looked at his hand and back to Peter with a dumbfounded expression. (Peter loved using his super-speed and reflexes to like, surprise people. Sue him.)

Choosing to ignore Mr. Stark’s mumble of _“Mr._ Rhodey,” he balled up the towel, whispering _“buckets,”_ as he tossed it towards the laundry basket, and pumping his fist in victory as he made yet another shot

_(He’s like, 26 for 27, but who’s counting)._

_(The one missed shot was courtesy of Dum-E moving to the wrong place at the wrong time and accidentally making the defensive play of the year.)_

Mr. Stark nudged Peter with his elbow on the elevator ride back to the living area of the tower. “What’d you think? Baby’s first gala. Any luck dragging you to another one of those things?”

Peter shrugged, “Yeah I guess. I mean—don’t get me wrong—lab nights and nights in _here_ are, like, far superior. But it wasn’t so bad. I made a friend. A kid my age, it was a nice change of pace.” 

As soon as he had said it, Peter wished he hadn’t. Because there were two things for certain. 

One, Mr. Stark was no idiot.

Two, Mr. Stark hated Norman Osborn with a passion. 

Peter glanced at the ceiling, preparing himself for… well he wasn’t sure what. Certainly not sunshines and rainbows. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then met Mr. Stark’s. 

“The Osborn kid.” 

_There it is._

“Harry—yeah. He was, he was cool. Like really.” 

Mr. Stark held his gaze for a moment, then hummed. “Well, you know that Norman and I aren’t exactly _besties_ —”

“Mr. Stark you can say you hate the guy. Literally everyone knows. I had to read this article for one of my classes about you guyses _feud_ and, like, you’re totally right the guy’s a dick. And not to mention all the shoddy genetic experimentation—I mean _hello—_ that he oversees like there’s so much stuff they do that’s definitely borderline human rights violations, _plus_ he treats his employees like sh—” 

“Kid, take a breath.” Mr. Stark patted his shoulder. “Look, like you said, yeah the guy’s a dick. Horrible human being. But listen. I’m not one to make assumptions about a person based on who their father is. I mean, we all know how _mine_ was but I’d rather not get into it.” 

He took a deep breath, “Kid, I’m glad you made a friend, especially since you’re probably getting dragged to more of these things—sorry by the way. Lord knows after I met Rhodey, I couldn’t have survived that shit without him. Anyways.

“Just promise me two things. That Osborn kid gets into a lot of trouble so _please_ for the love of god don’t do drugs and please try to avoid any and all Harry Osborn style scandals. May will kill me.”

“Mr. Stark, drugs or like, alcohol, won’t _work_ on me.” He patted his stomach, “Metabolism. I’m _advanced.”_

Mr. Stark rubbed his temple like he was warding off a headache. “Parker _please_ tell me right now that you’re making an educated guess like the good little scientist that you are, and that you’re _not_ speaking from experience. I—actually don’t. Don’t elaborate. You’re going to give me grey hairs.” 

“You already _have—_ ”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Peter grinned back at him. “Number two. Don’t let him find out that you’re Spider-Man. It’s not hard to put two and two together with the timeline and who _knows_ what Oscorp would do if they knew their little radioactive spiders did—“ he gestured in Peter’s general direction, “that.”

Mr. Stark sighed and placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Just be careful, kid.”

“You know, this is why Twitter calls you IronDad.” 

“Actually the answer I’m looking for is, _yes I promise to be careful and not give away my secret identity to my mentor’s enemy’s son who's father just so happens to be the man whose research inadvertently gave me superpowers.”_

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” His tone had shifted from the trademarked Stark sarcasm to one of grave seriousness. 

And despite his composed exterior, Peter could see the glint of genuine fear in his eyes. 

Tony Stark is a genius and a hero. Peter grew up idolizing the man. He thought that he wasn’t afraid of anything.

But somehow, between the day he came knocking on Peter’s apartment door to recruit him to this moment, Peter unlocked the real Tony Stark.

Something that only a handful of people have done.

He _is_ a hero. But Peter had learned that he _isn’t_ without fear. He controls what he can to protect the people he loves, even if it can be aggravating and overbearing, like, a lot of the time.

These cracks in the mask, so to speak, were few and far between at first, but becoming more prominent the more time Peter spent with his mentor. 

He nodded once, expression turning serious. “Yeah, I’ll be safe. I promise.” 

There was a beat of silence, and Peter could almost see the wheels turning in Mr. Stark’s head, creating plans A through Z for every possible scenario to keep him safe. 

The man cleared his throat and sniffed—something Peter had noticed that he does a lot in emotionally charged moments—and patted Peter’s shoulder before letting go.

“FRI.” He called out simply, and Peter suddenly realized that FRIDAY had held the elevator for their conversation. She was so intuitive and though he was used to it, it amazed him. 

The doors opened and with them came the smell of fresh pancakes. 

_Mr. Rhodey made the best pancakes._

Peter’s stomach grumbled as he made a beeline to the kitchen. 

“There you are!” Called Ms. Potts from her spot at the breakfast nook, “I was debating on whether or not I needed to drag you two up here.” 

Happy handed May a red mug, presumably full of coffee, and grunted, “The grind don’t stop, as the kids say these days.” 

Peter scrunched up his nose. “Happy, literally _nobody_ says that.” 

“What do you mean nobody says that. Everyone says that.” 

“I mean—if you follow like _Brad_ and the other mediocre asshole football players at Midtown then, yeah sure, people say that.” 

Happy shook his head indignantly. “Actually, I follow everyone from Midtown because it’s _part of my job._ Which I take very seriously.”

Peter’s face morphed into an expression of mortified shock. “Wait wait wait. Happy. Stop. You follow, literally, _everyone_ at my school. On like, Instagram. To keep me— _Spider-Man. Whatever_ —safe? You… Happy. That’s insane please tell me you’re joking.” 

Mr. Stark handed Peter a plate stacked with pancakes.

“Kid, when your homecoming date’s dad turns out to be a deranged supervillian with alien tech _and_ your school field trip turns into a near death experience at a national monument, we take _measures_ to keep tabs on everyone.” 

Happy nodded, looking rather proud of himself. “Grind don’t stop.” 

“Grind don’t stop,” Peter agreed with a resigned sigh. 

Mr. Rhodey was the last to join the table with his plate. “You know what the kids _do_ say these days? They say _thank you Rhodey for this amazing breakfast, you are my hero_.” 

The table erupted into _thank you’_ s, and Mr. Rhodey nodded firmly, obviously satisfied with himself. 

* * *

The rest of the weekend passed far too quickly in a flurry of lab days and patrols. May was on the night shift Sunday, so Peter took the opportunity to stake out a suspicious office building with the weird sci-fi film inspired human experimentation.

The one he hadn't told Mr. Stark about yet. 

He hadn't given it a second thought before. He wasn't gonna _engage_ with the guys (yet), but his elevator chat with Mr. Stark on Saturday made him feel guilty for keeping his mentor in the dark. 

Just a little.

It was a slow night, nothing much to document, so he decided to turn in early. Missing curfew again would _not_ be ideal. 

As he swung his way home—the long way of course—his HUD popped up with a new message.

**Unknown Number**

_Unknown: hey tony stark’s not-son_

_Unknown: help me with this calc problem._

_Unknown: please :)_

_Unknown: [image: calc]_

_Peter Not Stark: hey man! gimme 10 minutes i got u_

_Peter Not Stark: also i really hope this is harry and not some rando who knows i enjoy calculus and thinks im related to tony stark_

_Unknown: but u are_

_Peter Not Stark: actually nvm i cant help u sorry :/_

_Harry: wait_

_Harry: peter not stark_

_Harry: i need ur genius brain please_

_Harry: [image: emoji hearts kermit]_

_Peter Not Stark: [image: calc answers ur welcome]_

_Harry: i just met u but i would die for u_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi what's up I lost my marbles and deleted this in a moment of pure chaos and idiocy as soon as I posted chap two and then I was like WAIT so I edited chap one to make it not suck and combined it with chap two so here we go.
> 
> I'm home from college for the winter and putting off school to write this and hopefully I'll get on an update schedule idk. 
> 
> I meant to write this during my quarantine in august but 2020 really did the thing to me so like. better late than never. 
> 
> also i was in the top 0.5% of acdc's listeners worldwide so that's spicy. 
> 
> feedback is much appreciated. got ideas/suggestions/criticism/just wanna tell me u love me? please do not hesitate. it motivates me to get my ass into gear and write. love u!!!!!


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